


Wedding Bells

by Doodlebloo



Series: Bee & Boo & Michael (and sometimes Tommy) [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Fix-it fic, Fluff, Gen, Wedding Planning, along with the world's most intense game of rock paper scissors, cannot stress enough that there is no romance between them no sir that's WEIRDCHAMP, drug mention? It's a joke tho, literally just fluff at the minute, platonic marriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:55:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29919273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodlebloo/pseuds/Doodlebloo
Summary: "Hey, Ranboo?" Tubbo asks, breaking him from his thoughts."Hm?""What kind of cake do you think we'll want?""I- Sorry, what?""What kind of cake are you thinking? I like ice cream cake quite a lot, but I don't know if that's-""Cake... For what?"Tubbo's expression softens, and he pulls his legs up onto the counter to sit criss cross, still not quite eye level with Ranboo. "For our wedding, big man."-Or: After several months of relative peace on the Dream SMP, Tubbo and Ranboo finally feel secure enough to plan a real, proper wedding. It turns out that wedding planning may be a bit harder than they thought.
Relationships: More to be added later - Relationship, Ranboo & Tubbo, Ranboo & Tubbo & Michael
Series: Bee & Boo & Michael (and sometimes Tommy) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200257
Comments: 37
Kudos: 612





	Wedding Bells

**Author's Note:**

> "Write the content you want to read" okay. This is a fic where Tommy is alive and Wilbur has been resurrected, the Egg has been defeated, and Dream is not around (idc if he's dead or just under more careful watch/not allowed visitors, it's up to you). The whole premise of this is that Tubbo and Ranboo literally just. Plan their wedding. Also, everyone is in therapy. More characters will come into play as I continue with this, I'm mostly just rolling with this concept and seeing where it takes me :) This CAN and maybe even SHOULD be read as a continuation of Married Life in which Tommy and Tubbo are forgiven by Sam and move back to the main server, but you don't have to read that to read this. Hope you enjoy!

After everything that's happened on the Dream SMP, most of the server is plagued by nightmares.

Ranboo is no exception. Most nights, Ranboo wakes up gasping for air, terrified that Dream is controlling him or that a war has broken out or that his friends and family are in danger, or sometimes not even remembering what he'd dreamt of that had shaken him up so badly.

This morning, though, is an exception.

Ranboo's eyes flutter open peacefully this morning, sunlight streaming in through a nearby window. He doesn't remember last night's dream, but then again, Ranboo has never been the best at remembering.

Ranboo moves to sit up, but stops short as he hears Tubbo shift in his bed across the room. Ranboo stays as still has he can, holding his breath, and relaxes once he realizes Tubbo isn't going to wake up.

They'd decided on separate rooms, at first - better to have one and not use it than to get a fourth divorce. But as time went on, Tubbo got tired of moving back to his own room after late night binge watching sessions together, and Ranboo got tired of Tubbo stealing half his pillows and crashing on the floor, and Tommy started sleeping over so often that they had given up. Tubbo had shoved his bed into the opposite corner of Ranboo's room, and their new guest bedroom had been painted red, because Tommy wouldn't allow them to call it his.

Ranboo gets up slowly, careful not to make too much noise, and tiptoes downstairs.

The mansion is nice. Actually, it's more than nice - it's incredible, and it has everything they could ever want. (Ranboo should know, he helped pay for most of it.) Still, he thinks as he fires up their fancy coffee maker, he can't quite bring himself to regret the purchase. The mansion is a rare example of one of Tubbo's impulsive ideas (which Ranboo had naturally enabled) that actually turned out for the good.

As the coffee machine starts to whir, Ranboo tiptoes down the hall to check on Michael. Michael likes it here, Ranboo thinks, especially since they'd started getting Foolish to bring around Foolish Jr. more often. Junior is a lot younger than Michael, not yet old enough to even crawl, but something about the baby (maybe the gold?) fascinates Michael.

Slowly, Ranboo creaks open Michael's door just far enough for him to peer in. Michael is curled up in bed, sleeping soundly, plush chicken still held tightly in his arms. His sword is discarded next to him on the floor, along with a few spare books he'd been looking through. Ranboo can't suppress his smile as he watches Michael sleep, peaceful and calm, but eventually he peels himself away, shutting the door silently.

All things considered, Michael is much more well-behaved than Ranboo would've guessed he'd be. Despite his Nether origins, Michael is a fairly gentle child. He was rarely destructive, preferring to flip through books and point out the pretty pictures instead of ripping the pages out, and they'd been able to teach him not to attack others with relative ease.

Michael does have his golden sword, but Ranboo can afford him that luxury. Michael has his sword for the same reason Tubbo has his nukes - not to use, but to have as a comfort, as a failsafe.

Ranboo fully intends to ensure that neither of them need to have a failsafe ever again. 

The coffee maker dings, and Ranboo starts mixing in the cream and sugar as he hears someone pad into the kitchen behind him.

Tubbo hops up onto the counter, eyes still bleary with sleep. "Coffee?" He begs. "Please?"

Ranboo slides him a mug, knowing by now that it was easier to make Tubbo's coffee before making his own, as Tubbo was always awake just in time. "Two sugars, one cream?" He confirms. 

"Yes," Tubbo smiles sleepily, "thank you."

Ranboo hadn't remembered that, not really, but he kept a post-it note on the coffee maker to remind him of the coffee preferences of everyone who visited. Tubbo liked two sugars, one cream. Tommy said he liked his black, but if Ranboo subtly added just a bit of sugar, he could get Tommy to stop cringing when he drank it. Phil preferred tea, Foolish only drank red bull, and Michael is not allowed coffee under any circumstances. (Some mistakes you only make once. Even if it had really been Tubbo and Tommy's mistake.)

Even after everything, Ranboo's memory issues persist. Which is fine - he hadn't been expecting them to somehow magically disappear, but it can still get disenheartening sometimes. As a result, their house is mess of whiteboards, sticky notes, messages traced in the fog on bathroom mirrors or scrawled on the backs of hands. It makes Ranboo a bit self conscious, sometimes, but Tubbo doesn't seem to be bothered by it and nobody else has commented either.

As Tubbo makes progress on his coffee, Ranboo can see a bit of clarity come back into his eyes. "Michael awake?" Tubbo yawns, hair sticking up in a thousand different directions. He'd slept in sweatpants and Ranboo's dinosaur hoodie, much to Ranboo's discontent. ("Please, big man, mine is in the wash and I'm cold!" "You should've done laundry earlier, then-" "What happened to 'In sickness and in health? Till death do us part?'" "You're not going to die without my hoodie, Tubbo-" "I could!")

"No," Ranboo replies, stretching as he leans back against the counter next to Tubbo, "just checked a minute ago. We've got a bit, I think."

Tubbo hums, and Ranboo can tell by the way he starts swinging his legs back and forth that he's mostly awake at this point.

They share a comfortable silence, the warmth of their mansion a direct contrast to the biting cold outside. Ranboo thinks the mansion is a bit much, honestly, but he can't deny the appeal of watching Michael and Tubbo react in perfect unison to a movie on their gargantuan movie screen. 

It isn't like they're isolated, either - now that the server is mostly at peace, nearly everyone has stopped by at one point or another. Tommy comes by frequently, obviously, but Puffy and Sam are frequent visitors, as well. Jack and Niki had been welcomed in after their third month of therapy, and after they were absolutely sure it was safe, Wilbur had been allowed in, too. (He had needed a lot of therapy after his resurrection, and it had been a hard few months, but he was mostly back to normal, now.) 

Ranboo hasn't asked Tubbo, yet, but he sort of likes the idea of hosting a big gathering. There's no point in having a mansion if they don't throw some kind of extravagant party at least once, and Tubbo isn't one to turn down a party. Maybe they'd get Bad to babysit for them? (Since Bad's de-egging, he'd been one of their biggest helpers with raising Michael, having years of experience raising Sapnap.) Ranboo would have to lock some doors, and Fiancé-Proof a few things if the three mischeif-makers came over, but he thinks it might just be worth it.

"Hey, Ranboo?" Tubbo asks, startling him from his thoughts.

"Hm?"

"What kind of cake do you think we'll want?"

Ranboo opens his mouth to reply, but he suddenly remembers that he hadn't been discussing his party idea out loud. "I- Sorry, what?"

"What kind of cake are you thinking? I like ice cream cake quite a lot, but I don't know if that's-"

"Cake... For what?"

Tubbo's expression softens, and he pulls his legs up onto the counter to sit criss cross, still not quite eye level with Ranboo. "For our wedding, big man."

Ranboo blinks at him. Had... Surely he hadn't imagined them being married?

Ranboo looks down at his ring.

He'd _better_ not have imagined it.

"We... Are married? Already?"

Tubbo sighs softly, still smiling at him. "We talked about it last night, but I guess you forgot. Which is fine! Really, it was pretty late, and we were both tired."

Ranboo still feels a bit of guilt for forgetting, even though he knows Tubbo forgives him. These days, though, Ranboo feels less guilt and more frustration. Ranboo would love to remember the conversation they had, would love to be able to picture Tubbo, half asleep, rambling about what he'd like to wear or half-heartedly arguing about who should be Ranboo's best man. He knows that his memory is slowly getting better, and he knows that no one holds it against him, but... Ranboo can't help but feel like he's missing out on things.

Ranboo swallows around the lump in his throat. "What, um... What did we talk about, exactly?"

"Er, well... A lot of nonsense, really, if I'm being honest." 

Ranboo has to bite back a sigh. Tubbo has somehow unwittingly molded Ranboo into a person who loves nonsense, and it hurts Ranboo to have no recollection of it.

"Basically, though, we talked about having, like, a real wedding? Just for fun. Not like we aren't married now, but... Now that everything's calmed down a bit, I reckon it could be fun!"

Ranboo worries his lip, still occupied by the sinking feeling of being excluded from his own life. Tubbo seems to sense his discomfort, squeezing his arm, and Ranboo meets his gaze.

"Hey, you don't have to," Tubbo reminds him gently. "It- I know it was late, and I know you don't remember agreeing to it, so I get it if you're not interested. It's meant to be fun, you know? No pressure, big guy."

Ranboo lets a stilted chuckle escape him. Here he was so occupied with a conversation he'd missed out on already that he was about to miss out on the opportunity to have a better one. Ranboo relaxes his frown (which is always easier to do with Tubbo around) and allows himself to smile back.

"First layer," he muses, "half and half chocolate and vanilla, for me. Second layer-"

"Second layer can be Russian honey cake," Tubbo interrupts excitedly, "for me, and the third layer is-"

"Strawberry for Michael," they finish in unison. 

Despite himself, Ranboo giggles, unable to ignore the giddy feeling in his chest. "Did we talk about that last night?"

"Nope," Tubbo grins, eyes sparkling in the morning light. "We just spend too much time together."

Ranboo laughs, but before he can retort again, he can hear the familiar pitter-patter of tiny cloven feet on the hardwood.

Tubbo slides off the counter, crossing the room in seconds and scooping Michael up in a hug.

"Good morning, Michael, my beloved! How did we sleep?"

Michael only hums in response, still too sleepy to employ his Commonspeak lessons, and Tubbo kisses his forehead and plops him down at their kitchen island.

(Part of Ranboo hates that they have a kitchen island - what are they, rich people? Another part of him, though, thinks that Tubbo died twice and almost died a thousand more times, so maybe he deserves a kitchen island, as a treat.)

Tubbo marches over to a nearby cabinet, reaching up to look through their cereal. "What are we thinking this morning, Michael? We've got the chocolatey kind, the ones that are little puffs, the cinnamon ones, the gross kind that only Ranboo likes-"

"Hey," he scoffs, "it's not my fault that I value my digestive system."

"Okay, old man," Tubbo teases, "go steal a box from Phil next time we run out." Tubbo looks to Michael over his shoulder. "Any of those sound like a winner?"

Michael rubs at his eyes sleepily, and after taking a moment to process the question, points up at a box of cereal on the top shelf of the cabinet.

Tubbo's face falls. Ranboo snickers.

"Nope. I'll get a ladder."

Ranboo breaks into a full laugh at that. "Oh, you're gonna go get a ladder? For cereal?"

Tubbo grabs a dining chair and pulls it over. "Yes, I will, actually." He climbs up on it, balancing himself on the topmost part of the backrest. 

Tubbo tilts himself forward to reach for the box, and Ranboo's heart skips a beat as the chair starts to lean backwards. He gulps. "Tubbo-"

"I may be a bit of a trophy husband, Ranboo, but I'm not useless."

Another lunge for the box, Tubbo's fingers just barely grazing the side, and the chair lurches again. Ranboo subconsciously moves closer. "Tubbo-"

Tubbo prepares himself to grab at the box one last time. "I can take care of myse-"

All at once, the chair flips backwards out from under Tubbo, and Ranboo feels his heart nearly stop as he darts forward.

Half a second after it happens, Ranboo has Tubbo in his arms, both catching their breath.

He locks eyes with Tubbo for a moment, both still in shock, but it only takes a few seconds for Tubbo to be barely holding back his laughter.

The sight of Tubbo about to laugh forces Ranboo to suppress his own smile, and as soon as Tubbo picks up on this, he allows himself to giggle.

"Will you please ask for help next time?" He deadpans, trying to sound exhausted and worried even though he still feels warm and fuzzy.

"Dunno, will you be a _gentleman_ next time and get it for me in the first place?"

"Wh- I- you didn't-"

Without warning, Tubbo hops down from his arms and grabs the box of cereal he wanted from the floor. "I'm so sorry, Michael," he coos, "Ranboo has absolutely no manners."

Ranboo sighs, albeit fondly, and starts to pick up the chair. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Tubbo mutter something under his breath about forgetting a bowl, and go to open another cabinet.

Immediately, a look of dawning horror slowly envelops Tubbo's face. Ranboo has never been more vindicated.

"Top shelf again?" Ranboo asks in fake surprise, cockiness dripping from his words. "Gosh, if only someone had a half-enderman husband who canonically would do anything he asked."

Tubbo works his jaw, glancing over at Ranboo, weighing his options. They're in a stalemate, now, locked in the most pointless battle of wits they've had since last week. From his seat at the island, Michael plays with the salt and pepper shakers like action figures.

"The keyword, there," Ranboo taunts, "is _ask._ "

Something flickers in Tubbo's eyes. For half a second, his gaze darts to another dining chair.

Tubbo realizes Ranboo has noticed the movement. For a brief moment, they lock eyes, both at a standstill.

" _Never!_ " Tubbo lunges for the other dining chair, dragging it over for the cabinet and starting to climb before Ranboo even has time to react. "Victory or death!"

"No, no, no, no-" Ranboo chants as he rushes over, already seeing the dining chair tilt backwards.

It takes Michael another fifteen minutes to get his cereal after that, because a serious discussion has to be had over putting ceramic bowls on the top shelf, where they could easily fall (or be grabbed as someone falls backwards off a chair) and break.

By their standards, though, Ranboo thinks a bit later as he watches Tubbo and Michael exchange rudimentary conversation over their styrofoam cereal bowls, it had been a pretty peaceful morning.

(It stops being as peaceful when Michael reveals that he'd stolen a chunk of broken ceramic from the floor before they'd been able to clean it all up, but, hey, what's life without a little injury from wrestling sharp objects away from your son?)

* * *

"Wow," Tubbo mumbles around the roll of bandage in his mouth, "Michael really did a number on you."

Bandaging the cuts on Ranboo's hands and arms is the least Tubbo can do after causing the whole mess, but in his defense, it had been kind of funny. 

Ranboo hisses as Tubbo disinfects a cut. "Yeah, yeah, he really did."

Tubbo hums, finishing up on the last little cut with a regular band-aid, patterned with the incredible hulk. "That's kind of badass," he admits, because it is.

"You know what," Ranboo agrees, "it kind of is."

Tubbo's smile returns at that, and as he packs up his first aid kit to put away, Michael brings him his own little doctor's bag to put away.

It had been a gift from Tommy, who usually came to Tubbo if he had a wound to get patched up that wasn't serious enough to warrant a gapple or a health pot. (Not that they didn't have plenty, now, but Tubbo isn't confident that they'll ever grow out of the habits they had to learn to keep themselves alive.) Honestly, Tubbo isn't that much better at dressing wounds than anyone else on the server, and he thinks Tommy knows that, but neither of them will ever turn down a chance to see one another.

Michael, though, doesn't like it when Uncle Tommy gets hurt, and he used to whimper and squirm and rifle through the first aid kit Tubbo was using to try and help patch Tommy up. At the time, Tommy had called him annoying for it, but he'd shown up a few days later with a little cloth doctor's bag, along with a roll of cloth as pretend bandages and an experience pot sealed up to act as pretend medicine. Tubbo and Ranboo knew better than to make a big deal of it, but Michael was so pleased with the handmade gift that Tommy ended up playing doctor with him for hours, pretending to be dead and then getting "revived" by the "medicine."

As Tubbo has been patching up Ranboo, Michael has been following along with Tubbo's movements as he heals a teddy bear, and when Tubbo puts up the real first aid kit, it's only tradition for him to put Michael's away as well.

"I reckon we did a good job, Michael!" Tubbo exclaims. "Ranboo and Mr. Cuddles are both all patched up!"

Michael snuggles the bear, which was an old baby toy of Sapnap's, and smiles up at him. "Boo all better?"

"Boo all better," Ranboo agrees from his position on the couch. "Promise."

Michael seems content with that, dragging his bear off somewhere to play (he has an entire playroom to himself, after all,) and Tubbo takes his seat on the couch next to Ranboo.

Ranboo gives him a wary look. Tubbo wiggles his fingers at him. "Hi," he chirps.

Ranboo snorts. "Hi," he repeats. "Eventful morning, huh?"

"No more eventful than the dishwasher thing last week," Tubbo defends. He shifts and squirms to find a comfortable position on the couch as Ranboo pulls out his memory book.

"Oh, _right,_ " Ranboo puts a hand to his head, "we almost had to call a plumber! There was so much soap-"

"Yeah, but Foolish said we might have to replace the floorboards, and then realized we didn't. I'd say that was a win."

Ranboo chuckles. "It would've been a bigger win if the dishwasher hadn't broken."

"It would've been the biggest win if you hadn't been so stubborn, then."

"D'awww," coos Ranboo, "look at us arguing over things that don't matter. We really are a married couple!"

"We aren't arguing," Tubbo assures. "If we were, I'd be devastated. And, anyway, we never finished talking about a wedding."

Ranboo knits his brows, suddenly lost in thought. "Do you... _want_ to have a wedding?" He asks tentatively.

"Yeah," Tubbo answers immediately. "Yes, I do. I think it'd be fun, and there's no reason not to. You're rich, and we've already got a damn mansion. What are we even saving our money for, the next time the dishwasher breaks?

"Yes," Ranboo says, but his shoulders relax a bit. "It's gonna break again one of these days."

"Yeah, well, one of these days the Earth will be destroyed by the sun. I live in the now, Ranboo, and right now I want my three-tier wedding cake."

Ranboo laughs at that, and Tubbo still gets the same stupid little swell of pride he gets every time he makes Ranboo laugh. It's been forever, and Tubbo knows he can do it easily, but it still makes him happy just to see Ranboo happy.

"I think there's a bit more to planning a wedding than the cake," he explains.

Tubbo tilts his head. "Like what?"

"Like... A venue, and a guest list, and we'd have to find tuxedos - or dresses, or whatever, really... Um, I think we need to write vows, as well? Food, we probably need that for for the guests, and, like, a DJ-"

"Ooh, who would be our DJ?" Tubbo moves to sit on his heels, buzzing with excitement. "We could put Big Q in charge."

"That would end... Badly."

"Yeah, but it'd be _really_ funny."

Ranboo chews his lip, shifting uncomfortably, and takes a breath. "Okay, um... So, if we're going to plan out wedding, I feel like we need to sort of.... Be on the same page about things. Is... Tubbo, is this like, a real wedding, or are we doing it as a joke?"

Tubbo hums as he considers this. Originally, their marriage had been a joke, but somewhere between adopting Michael and the looming threat of the syndicate and the Egg Incident and everything else they'd been through, they'd both just accepted that they unironically wanted to spend their lives together.

"...Both, I reckon," Tubbo finally decides. "Our marriage was a joke, at first, and now it's really important to both of us. I feel like our wedding can be serious when it needs to be, y'know, like, the aisle and the vows and stuff. But there's no reason for us not to get a little wild afterwards, yeah?"

Ranboo raises his eyebrows. "'Get a little wild?'"

"As in drugs, Ranboo," Tubbo deadpans, only half serious.

"No," Ranboo sings. "No, absolutely not. We have a toddler to take care of." Ranboo tail flicks back and forth rhythmically as he voices his concerns in song form.

"Mmm... We'll see," Tubbo says, and Ranboo smiles incredulously at him.

"That- you... You're using my own line against me!"

Tubbo cackles. "Yeah, how does it feel, bitch? When I say, 'Oh, Ranboo, we should adopt another kid,' and you say 'Mm, we'll see!' _Now_ who's gonna see?"

Ranboo laughs, and Tubbo has always found his laughter infectious. Tubbo really does want another, though - Michael is fairly well behaved, and Tubbo would feel a lot better about leaving him home alone if he knew Michael had someone else to keep him company. Still, Tubbo knows it's better for him to leave it in the air, and wait until he and Ranboo come across an orphan that seems non-hostile.

"So, we're... We're planning a wedding, now?" Ranboo breathes. "That's, like, a thing that we're doing. Getting married?"

"I guess we are, yeah." Tubbo frowns. "Reckon we'll need some help, though. Who on the server has experience planning a wedding?"

"Not Sapnap, Karl, or Quackity, that's for sure. Heyo!" Ranboo raises his hand for a high five. "Up top!"

Tubbo looks at his hand in fake disgust, fighting to keep the smile off his face. "Ranboo," he quips, "please. I am trying to plan a wedding."

Ranboo rolls his eyes good naturedly. "I mean, isn't Bad married to Skeppy? He could help, maybe."

"Nobody really knows, but he'd probably officiate if we asked..." As the thought pops into his head, Tubbo adds in a much smaller voice, "it'd be cool for Phil to officiate, though. Or Eret."

"Better go with Eret," Ranboo says, eyes now trained on Michael as he organizes his collection of gold nuggets. "Phil is probably gonna walk me down the aisle."

Tubbo splutters at him, offended. "What are- why do _you_ get to walk down the aisle!?"

"Because I said so," Ranboo smiles easily. "I want to."

"But that's not fair! You- Ranboo, it'll take you two steps to get to the front, you're like eight feet tall!"

"Yeah, and it'll take you three hours. Our guests will be asleep by the time you get there."

Ranboo is somehow prepared to raise his arm when Tubbo goes to pinch him, and for a moment, they half-heartedly wrestle. Eventually, though, Tubbo gives up, crossing his arms with a huff and a pout.

After a moment to celebrate his victory, Ranboo nudges him. "Rock, Paper, Scissors?"

"Paper, Scissors, Stone," he corrects on autopilot.

Ranboo scoffs. "Okay," he mocks.

"Alright," Tubbo agrees, "prepare to meet your maker, _darling._ " Tubbo says darling sarcastically, with the same inflection he'd use to call Ranboo a dickhead or an asshole, but Ranboo has to bite back a smile as the tips of his ears tint purple anyways.

They both shift to face each other, staring into each other's eyes, and Tubbo is determined to win. He can feel it.

"Best two of three," Ranboo clarifies, "no more and no less."

"Fine. Good. Let's do it."

Tubbo cracks his knuckles. It's unnecessary, and it makes Ranboo flinch. 

Good, he's been thrown off his rhythm.

"Chant 3, 2, 1, shoot, instead of saying two different names for the game?"

Tubbo nods curtly, already in the zone, and the game begins.

"3, 2, 1, shoot!" They call in unison.

Tubbo throws scissors, which Ranboo beats with his own rock. Tubbo's adrenaline picks up as he sees Ranboo smirk. His palms start to sweat, and he grits his teeth. 

"3, 2, 1, shoot!"

Tubbo can't help but breathe a sigh of relief as Ranboo's paper is defeated by Tubbo's second scissors in a row. Ranboo sets his jaw, and Tubbo grins menacingly. Still, he reminds himself not to get cocky. He could still lose here just as easily as before, so he has to stick with his "scissors-only" strategy. He's never played Ranboo before, so it should work.

"3, 2, 1, shoot!"

Tubbo's heart nearly stops as they both throw scissors, and his stomach drops as he sees a spark of recognition flicker in Ranboo's eyes. Recognition of what? Had Ranboo figured out his plan? Tubbo knows he has to stick with his strategy if he wants the best statistical outcome of winning, but he curses his husband for being so observant. Tubbo gulps as they chant together one last time.

"3..."

The world seems to move in slow motion as he and Ranboo start chanting. Should he change his strategy? Surely Ranboo knows, by now, that Tubbo is only playing scissors.

"2..." 

But Ranboo could be bluffing. He knows Tubbo is a chess player at heart, knows he excels at overthinking every move to the point that he exhausts himself. If Ranboo knows that Tubbo knows, he could be playing paper, expecting Tubbo to change his move.

"1..."

But if Ranboo knows Tubbo is a chess player, surely he'd also know that Tubbo is prone to overthinking...

"Shoot!"

Tubbo realizes a hundredth of a second too late that Ranboo would easily have been able to predict Tubbo changing his strategy in the last round, and as he throws down rock only too be defeated by Ranboo's paper, he throws himself off the couch.

"Noooooo!" He screams, melodrama coating his tone. "God, how could I have been so _stupid!_ "

Beside him, Ranboo cackles hysterically. "I did it!" He shouts. "Let's go! I'm getting walked down the aisle by Philza Minecraft!"

Tubbo groans weakly from his spot on the floor. "Fuck you," he mumbles. Ranboo laughs harder.

Michael scampers over to Tubbo and crouches above him, face upside down as his eyes scan Tubbo's.

"Bee okay?" Asks Michael, patting Tubbo's face gently.

"No," Tubbo groans.

Michael suddenly looks very worried.

"He's okay," soothes Ranboo, "Promise. He's alright."

Tubbo hoists himself off the ground, shifting to be on his knees in front of Michael. "I'm okay," he smiles, "just being dramatic."

Michael frowns at him. "Sure?"

"Super sure," Tubbo agrees, ruffling Michael's hair. Michael giggles and runs off, and Tubbo watches as Michael continues pretending to play paper rock stone with one of his toys. Michael's tiny piglet hands can barely form the correct shapes, and it's adorable to watch him dramatically flop over as he pretends to lose.

Ranboo snorts as he sits next to Tubbo on the floor. (That's one of the things that Tubbo loves about Ranboo. They've got a literal mansion, filled with comfortable furniture that cost them a fortune. But if Tubbo wants to sit in the floor for no reason, he knows that Ranboo will be right there with him, no questions asked.)

"You're a bad influence," Ranboo teases.

"I'm not," Tubbo argues. "I'm teaching him how to play early so that when _he_ plays _his_ game of scissors, paper, stone, he'll get to be walked down the aisle instead of his spouse."

"Ah, yes," Ranboo jokes, "the ancient ritual of rock paper scissors that has been historically used to figure out which spouse gets walked down the aisle."

"Ranboo, we're raising a winner."

Ranboo snorts. "So, which one of us gets to walk Michael down the aisle?"

Tubbo catches his eye, and lets something dangerous show through in his expression. Ranboo doesn't flinch.

"I guess that's a game for another day."

Ranboo cracks a smile. "I guess it is, yeah."

Tubbo sighs dramatically. "Well, at least we got part of our wedding figured out."

"If we have to do that for every part of the wedding, it's going to take forever. I'm literally lightheaded from that."

"Nah, I'm sure we'll agree on everything else we have to choose."

Tubbo knows exactly what he's doing when he says it. Ranboo blinks at him.

"You're... You _know_ that you're jinxing it so we fight over everything," he clarifies.

Tubbo grins mischievously. Ranboo grimaces. 

"...You're trying to jinx it so you can redeem yourself in rock paper scissors."

"Nah," Tubbo thinks aloud, "I'm not gonna disagree with you on purpose. It's just, if we _do_ disagree, I'm going to fight you to the death and win."

Ranboo stares at him. "In... In rock, paper, scissors."

"Of course."

"Right."

From his spot across the room, Michael seems to have beaten Mr. Cuddles, as he does a little victory dance and claps his hands before sitting down to play again. Tubbo watches Ranboo 's expression of awe and wonder, sees how Ranboo's tail flicks back and forth happily. "We should probably start writing this stuff down, you know. It's gonna be a lot to remember."

A smile tugs at the corner of Ranboo's lips. "You mean like... Are- Tubbo, are we making a wedding binder?"

"I was thinking of a scrapbook, honestly, but it can be a binder if you'd rather."

Ranboo chuckles. "Should I take pictures, then, for our wedding scrapbook?"

"Yeah," Tubbo grins, "no, do that! We can start taking pictures while we plan it, and by the time we're done, we'll have a wedding scrapbook!"

"Okay," Ranboo says, standing up, "here. Lay- lie back down on the floor like you did when you lost, and I'll take a picture."

"Wh- Ugh, why?"

"It's an important moment in the history of our marriage, now get in the floor."

Tubbo groans, but he lies back anyway, disdain showing clear on his face as he glares up at Ranboo.

"That's good," Ranboo says, pulling out his phone. "Keep acting upset!"

"I'm not acting," Tubbo grumbles, but Ranboo starts snapping pictures anyway.

The flash must alert Michael, because he suddenly comes into view in the corner of Tubbo's eye, crouching to look down at him. Tubbo still keeps his glare trained on Ranboo, who snaps another photo.

Ranboo chuckles as he looks at the most recent photo. "That's the one," he breathes, "oh my god, look."

Admittedly, it _is_ a pretty good photo, Tubbo thinks as he takes the phone from Ranboo. Something about him dramatically splayed out on the floor with Michael looking innocent and confused right beside him makes for a very goofy photo.

Tubbo allows himself to breathe out a laugh. "Yeah, I reckon that's a keeper," he agrees, and he and Ranboo both flop back down onto the couch.

"This... This is a really good idea." Ranboo is looking over at him, something soft in his voice.

"What, our wedding?"

"No- well, yes, but I meant the scrapbook." Ranboo curls in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest and gazing at the floor, smiling softly. "It's... I still forget things a lot, and I... It makes me feel like I'm missing out on really important memories. This scrapbook... Even if I don't remember it, I'll still be able to know what happened. It... I dunno, maybe it's stupid, but it means a lot to me."

If Tubbo is being honest, he hadn't even considered that - mostly he'd just wanted to put a bunch of stickers and photos in a book - but he immediately commits himself to the idea with a renewed fervency.

"This is gonna be the best goddamn scrapbook in the world," he promises, tilting his head to lean it on Ranboo's shoulder, "just you wait. It- we are going to be scrapbook _masters_ after this. They'll call us Tubbo and Ranboo Scrapbook."

"Is the name change optional?" Ranboo quips, tilting his head to lay it in his arms and look down at Tubbo.

"Nope," Tubbo chirps, popping the p. "We're scrapbook people now."

Ranboo sighs. "So be it," he surrenders, still smiling.

"Reckon we should go find Niki first," Tubbo muses, "and ask about the cake. She might have stuff to scrapbook with, too."

"I think she does," Ranboo agrees. "She has a few art supplies, at least."

From where he's seated on the floor, Michael is still playing scissors, paper, stone with his teddy bear. 

"1, 2, 3, go!" Calls Michael, making a tiny fist. Mr. Snuggles must have thrown paper this round, because Michael throws himself down onto the floor, groaning and shutting his eyes. Tubbo walks over to him, nudging Michael with his foot.

"You alright, big man?"

Michael opens one eye to peer up at him. "Dead," Michael explains, and quickly closes his eye again.

"Dead?" Tubbo asks. "Oh no, do I need to go get the first aid kit?" He starts to leave, only to be stopped by Michael tugging on the leg of his pants.

"No, no," Michael explains worriedly, "joke! Joke!"

"Ah," Tubbo fake realizes as he scoops Michael into his arms, "so you were acting, then, were you?"

Michael nods.

"Well, you are a very talented actor, Michael, and you get that from me. Don't forget that, alright? Bee is the one who gave you your acting skills."

Michael tries to repeat after Tubbo, but he still isn't great with Common, so what comes out is more like "Bee gibb ackinski."

Tubbo nods anyway. "Exactly."

Ranboo snorts. "Wow. The power of your influence.". He gets up and stretches. "Should we bring Michael to come and see Niki?"

"I dunno," Tubbo muses, looking over to Michael. "Do you wanna go and see Niki?"

Michael nods vigorously. "Icki!" 

Tubbo smiles fondly at him. Considering the change in Niki's personality that he had still been recovering from, he had been worried she'd be upset at Michael's nickname for her. The therapy she'd gotten must have done wonders, though, because Niki had laughed so hard her face had gone red and gently told Michael that he could call her whatever he wanted, and for a brief moment, the Niki that stood in front of Tubbo was the same Niki from L'Manberg.

"Well, I reckon that's settled, then. Let's head out." 

Ranboo holds Tubbo back by the collar as he heads for the door.

"No, nope, we are not going out in our pajamas today. We need to go change."

"...Okay, you go change then."

"Tubbo."

Tubbo groans dramatically, starting to put Michael down before Ranboo stops him.

"Michael has to get dressed, too," Ranboo deadpans.

Michael copies Tubbo's groan almost perfectly. Tubbo laughs in surprise.

"I'm telling you, you're a bad influence," Ranboo chuckles. "He's gonna be all spoiled like you are."

"And what about it," Tubbo challenges as they climb the stairs. "I've got a rich husband, I'm allowed to be spoiled."

"Go get dressed, or you're gonna have a rich ex-husband."

Tubbo rolls his eyes. "Michael, what are we gonna wear today?" He asks, still holding Michael as he enters their walk-in closet. "Should we wear matching hoodies, and have Ranboo not match with us?"

"Wh- _hey!_ "

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be real, life has been kicking my ass as of late but! Writing this made me happy and so I hope that it also makes a few of you happy :) idk when next chapter will be out but I'm hoping it will be soon! Stay safe, wear your mask, drink water etc <3 (also thank you sm for all the kind comments on my last fic, you guys are amazing!)


End file.
